THE MOVIE OF MY LIFE PHASE ONE: The Osterman Weekend (1983)

I was actually approaching this film with some trepidation.  Even though I am an admirer of Sam Peckinpah, I know the reputation of this film as a truly incoherent mess that provides a sad period to his career.  I think I avoided it precisely because I didn’t want to see one of the distinctive voices of the Last Great Era of American Filmmaking go out like this.

The bad news is that The Osterman Weekend is pretty awful.  It is incoherent to the point where the third act is impenetrable.

The good news is it is not that awful.  It actually has some good moments, good performances and was watchable for most of its hour and forty five minute running time...and I’m willing to bet the incoherence is more Robert Ludlam’s fault than Sam Peckinpah*.

Rutger Hauer plays John Tanner, a television journalist with a tendency to catch public figures with their pants down.  CIA director Maxwell Danforth (Burt Lancaster) is convinced three of Tanner’s friends are part of a Soviet spy ring called Omega and assigns newly returned agent Laurence Fassett (John Hurt) to conduct a sting utilizing a weekend reunion to get one of the three agents to turn....and it all goes wrong.

Obviously, this is a manly movie; it’s not for nothing that the first female name in the cast list is sixth (it’s obvious Meg Foster is the female lead because she is a hunting enthusiast, kills guys in the big set piece and doesn’t show her breasts).  With the exception of Foster’s Ali, the women are there to show off their bodies and cater to their husbands.  You can tell which characters Peckinpah cares about--with the exception of Fassett, the CIA operatives are just Guys With Guns and if it wasn’t for the characters being played by Dennis Hopper and Chris Sarandon In A Comical Brooklyn Accent, two of the Omega Trio would have no personality at all.  The main action sequence (which should have been a climax) does Pekinpah's ‘Every Place Has A West' trope to the point where our good guys utilize bows and arrows to dispatch the baddies.  Even with the rather muddled climax implying a more cerebral assault on the Evil, this is all about Men Protecting Men’s Property From Other Men.

There’s a sense that Peckinpah was trying to say something about the American Obsession with watching; it’s not for nothing that there are extended sequences of Hurt or Hauer watching other characters on monitors (frequently sex scenes, which makes it seem like you’re watching porn over somebody’s shoulder) and that the two people who end up being the...heroes?...of this story both work in the television industry.  But whatever he’s trying to say is drowned out by the sheer convolutedness of the script--which I think is very much more the fault of the source material.

The strongest thing in this film, like in most of Peckinpah’s features, is some of the acting.  I was pleasantly taken aback by how much chemistry Hauer has with Foster, and how Foster had a lot more agency than the usual Peckinpah Heroine.  Hauer also has a great give-and-take with Craig T. Nelson (playing the titular Osterman) to the point where I was wishing the film was just about those two characters.  And John Hurt’s character may be obtusely written, but God Bless Him, the man gives that confusing character gravitas by sheer force of will.

The Osterman Weekend is not the godawful travesty I’ve been led to believe.  It’s got serious problems, including a third act that is nonsense, but it is a worthwhile watch for people who like spy thrillers, the work of Peckinpah, or cheesy thrillers.  I have to give this a Mild Recommend.

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*--Don’t argue with me; I’ve seen the handful of messed-up movies made from Ludlam’s overtly complicated output.